take me out to the ball game

The ball flies into the sky, looks as if it could dissapear, then falls back into the field.

A bird flies overhead, an airplane makes its tracks in the sky, and the crowd cheers as the Blue Jays get another home run.

During the game my eyes are locked on the evening sky as much as they are on the game.

The stadium is glowing, and with my father sitting beside me, the speakers blasting music and the crowd chanting along, I feel like I'm in the right place.

I don't know the rules of baseball and couldn't care less. I live for the ambiance, drinks in plastic cups, fans in tacky jerseys, and people screaming on the big screen. I make more comments on the perkiness of the players buts then I do on the score, and smile through it all.

My dad is in town, and we celebrated his first night with a Blue Jays baseball game.

It was the perfect evening, and before it ended we walked down the street for some soul food and live music. And although I loved the game, nothing makes me happier than Southern comfort food and motown.

Buy me some cornbread and set the tone, and I won't care if I ever go home.